Chapter 33

Prompted by the tentative query, Leon knitted his brow in mock displeasure before letting a sly grin graze his lips.

“Who can say?”

Elwin’s heart plummeted. Spotting the sudden, brilliant crimson creeping up the youth’s neck, Leon let slip a soft, teasing chuckle.

“I am jesting, naturally.”

“What sort of joke is that?”

With his chest still hammering, Elwin raised his blue eyes to glare at him. Yet the instant their gazes locked, he realized that despite Leon’s languid tone, the look in his eyes held no levity at all.

“You are quite right,” Leon murmured, his voice slow and deliberate. “Even a careless jest of mine must unsettle you now, Sir Elwin. Perhaps I spoke out of turn because I felt slightly slighted—you seemed not to recognize how fiercely I fought last night to shield your honor, my lord. My apologies.”

The whispered apology sank like lead into Elwin’s chest. Come to think of it, Leon’s features appeared far more drawn than they had yesterday. Had the pheromones tormented him throughout the night? He likely had not slept a wink, having yielded his own bed to Elwin. A sharp pang of guilt caused Elwin to recoil.

“No, please. There is no need for such formality. Thank you, Mr. Leon.”

Leon regarded him with an inscrutable smile. In the pale dawn light, his amber eyes glowed warmer and softer than Elwin had ever seen them.

“It was a long night.”

Hearing this, an absurd question flitted through Elwin’s mind: had Leon watched him with that very gaze all through the dark hours? The moment the thought took root, fear struck him anew—though this was entirely different from the terror of being preyed upon. This time, an unfamiliar emotion swelled from the depths of his chest like a rising tide.

“Regardless, if we remain like this, someone will surely discover us,” Leon noted, shrugging as he tapped the splintered door panel. “Hurry back to your chamber. As for this, I shall claim I tore it off by accident.”

Elwin scrambled up and retreated to his room as if snapping out of a dream. Yet even after crossing the threshold into his own familiar sanctuary, he felt as though he were still trapped within that reverie.

Failing even to change out of those accursed pajamas, Elwin collapsed into an armchair and stared blankly ahead. Eventually, his eyes drifted to the mirror. Though nothing untoward had occurred, his cheeks remained deeply flushed. The reflection staring back felt entirely foreign—wearing a confused, fragile, and oddly tender expression he had never witnessed before.

Elwin slapped his cheeks with both palms, taking a deep, stabilizing breath. Somehow, the grueling night had ended. His mind remained in disarray, but he was safe. Nothing had happened.

No. Was this truly… a relief?

Nothing had happened, yet everything had changed. Elwin continually replayed the memory of Leon’s dawn-lit eyes—so incredibly tender it physically ached. An ominous, overwhelming premonition seized him: he would never be able to look at that man the same way again.

As the day brightened, the servants of the count’s estate bustled about. The news of the shattered guest room door sparked a brief flurry of gossip, but skilled carpenters soon restored both the frame and the handle.

Toby, who had suffered an agonizing, sleepless night over his reckless dinner menu, was terrified his blunder had endangered Elwin. At the crack of dawn, he crept to the second floor to interrogate the maid assigned to the guest wing, confirming whether Dwight had stirred.

It appeared Dwight had not crossed his threshold. As was his custom, he showed no intention of leaving his chamber until the sun climbed high. Toby rushed to Elwin with the report, his face beaming with innocent relief.

“Lord Dwight must be sleeping off the wine! Perhaps the rumor about port wine possessing aphrodisiac qualities was merely an old wives’ tale after all.”

Elwin, who normally detested leaving falsehoods uncorrected, could not bring himself to reveal that the vintage had been dreadfully effective.

None of the household staff seemed to suspect Elwin had spent the night elsewhere, nor had anyone discovered the true cause behind Leon’s demolished door.

Splendid. Let us quietly bury last night’s events.

Elwin watched the servants work, keeping his face carefully masked, when his beloved younger sister Eleanor slipped up beside him.

“Um, dear brother…”

Guilt makes cowards of us all. The tentative note in his sister’s voice made Elwin’s chest tighten. Had she overheard something? Seen him fleeing in those absurd pajamas? Attempting to conceal his panic, Elwin shoved his spectacles up his nose.

“What is it, Eleanor?”

“It is about Miss Selena.”

To his immense relief, the topic was not the night’s escapades, though he realized with a pang of guilt that he had neglected his duties. Selena had nearly plunged from her mount yesterday, yet he had been so consumed by thoughts of Leon that he had failed to check on her.

“What of Miss Selena? Is she unwell? Did she sustain an injury?”

“No. Miss Selena merely inquired if she might join my history and classical literature lessons today.”

Elwin had worried Selena might have secluded herself out of resentment, but she had apparently befriended Eleanor. Even after the bizarre incident where Selena had painted Eleanor’s face, the two girls had grown remarkably close. Watching them stroll and chatter in the gardens always warmed Elwin’s heart.

Though Butler Alfred kept a vigilant eye on Selena to prevent further mishaps, Elwin was genuinely pleased his sister had found a companion. Still, the academic subjects gave him pause; Selena’s temperament was mercurial, and he feared dry lectures would bore her.

“Of course she may. If Miss Selena desires, she is welcome to join your other studies. But did you make it clear that today’s curriculum does not involve the harp or embroidery?”

“Naturally. At first, she grumbled about why I studied such dusty, ancient subjects and whether they weren’t meant solely for men. But then she declared that made them sound far more exciting, and she wanted to try.”

As a scholar at heart, Elwin rejoiced at any desire for learning. He was contemplating which textbooks in the library would suit Selena when Eleanor tilted her head, adding, “But… even if Miss Selena isn’t sick, her heart seems heavy. She warned me several times that men are entirely untrustworthy and that I must remain on my guard around them.”

Elwin pondered this. Why such cynicism? Had something unpleasant occurred during the tea party? Regardless…

“She is correct, Eleanor. Men are exceedingly devious creatures, so you must always be cautious. Do you understand?”

Since Eleanor still appeared as a toddler in his eyes, Selena’s counsel pleased him. As Elwin adopted the stern visage of an overprotective brother preparing to lecture, Eleanor backed away.

“Haha, yes, brother. I must be off!”

“Eleanor, did you hear me? You must answer properly!”

As Elwin called after his sister as she dashed up the staircase, a dry, amused voice drifted from behind him.

“Men are exceedingly devious creatures. I had no inkling you harbored such a bleak view of us, Sir Elwin.”

Elwin stiffened, turning to find Leon wearing his customary smirk.

“Mr. Leon.”

He tried to offer a casual greeting, but merely looking at Leon sent a rush of heat to his face. Despite nothing explicit occurring, he felt utterly lost on how to behave. Leon observed those rose-brushed cheeks and chuckled.

“Had I known my restraint would earn me such glares, perhaps I shouldn’t have fought so hard to behave myself. I should have simply lived up to your terrible expectations, my lord.”

“What on earth do you mean by that?”

“Now that we have shared a night together, it wounds me to see you look upon me so fiercely.”

“M-Mr. Leon! Please, others will misunderstand if they overhear!”

“Misunderstand? I am merely stating the truth.”

Leon grinned, clearly delighted by Elwin’s horror, though he had no genuine intention of ruining him. As a housemaid passed by, he smoothed his posture into an elegant display of decorum and offered a proper bow.

“Then let me greet you formally. Did you rest well last night, young master?”

Elwin’s face burned fiercer. Leon, who had surrendered his bed to an uninvited guest, knew precisely how soundly Elwin had slept.

“Thanks to you. Mr. Leon, did you…”

Prompted by guilt, Elwin scanned Leon’s face. Fortunately, the man looked far more refreshed than he had at dawn when Elwin had fled.

“Is the wound on your hand healing? Did you sleep at all? You couldn’t have rested comfortably. I occupied your bed, and…”

Elwin spoke with genuine worry, but Leon feigned a gasp, leaning in to whisper near his ear, “Sir Elwin. Might it not prove troublesome if the maid hears such intimate concerns?”

Horrified, Elwin spun around, but the maid had already vanished down the corridor. He bristled and glared.

“You truly delight in tormenting me, Mr. Leon.”

“As I have told you before, I only tease those I find utterly captivating.”

Watching that easy smile, Elwin realized he could never win against this man. Yet Leon’s playful banter succeeded in melting the rigid tension that had gripped him. What should he do now? As the host, should he offer tea? Or perhaps…

“Young master! This is a disaster!”

Toby came bursting into the drawing room just as Elwin was debating whether a tea invitation would only cause his face to burn hotter. Elwin opened his mouth to reprimand the servant for his lack of decorum, but Toby’s next words froze him.

“Mr. Frederick is here! What could he possibly want? Surely he isn’t here to…”

Sensing Toby was about to say “propose again,” Elwin pressed an index finger to his lips.

“Shh. Toby. Quietly show our guest in.”

Though he spoke with outward composure, Elwin’s chest tightened. The memories of the disastrous tea party were so repulsive that he had zero desire to face Frederick Finch ever again.

But with his position so fragile, he dared not turn away a visiting noble. Besides, Frederick’s business surely lay with Dwight, not him.

“Hmm. Thank you for the welcome, Sir Elwin.”

Despite the chill in the air, winter was still weeks away. Yet Frederick arrived draped in an ostentatious fur coat. As Elwin reluctantly ushered him into the drawing room, the rotund man sauntered about, eyeing the estate as if inspecting a charity house.

“So this is the parlor? One can certainly feel your family’s legendary… modest traditions.”

“Yes, Mr. Frederick.”

“No tea for me, thank you. I hear the price of sugar has spiked. I wouldn’t dream of imposing on your budget.”

Frederick poured his entire effort into mocking the Ravenwell family’s poverty. Elwin maintained a strained smile, thinking, Would it violate social etiquette if I struck him right now? This is not a formal gathering, after all.

“By the way, where is Sir Dwight?”

As suspected, Frederick’s business was with Dwight. Elwin could hardly explain that Dwight would sleep until dusk and likely wake to drink whiskey, so he offered a vague excuse.

“Mr. Dwight is currently occupied with personal matters. Miss Selena is also unavailable.”

Frederick clicked his tongue, his gaze shifting to Leon. He had clearly been conscious of Leon’s extravagant jewelry, as he kept tapping a hand adorned with a massive gem-encrusted ring against the table. To prevent the vulgar display from escalating, Elwin interceded.

“What brings you here today, Mr. Frederick?”

“Ah, I had hoped to deliver this to Lord Dwight personally.”

Frederick flaunted his ring as he drew a small envelope from his coat pocket.

Surely not.

“It is nothing grand. To welcome the new count, my family is hosting a modest evening gala. Please deliver these to Sir Dwight and Miss Selena. This one is for Lord Leon. And…”

He slid the envelopes across the table, then withdrew a final one, presenting it to Elwin with a sneer.

“You should attend as well, Sir Elwin. If your circumstances permit, of course.”

***